Written by František Šístek
In recent years, Montenegrin political and public discussions have frequently centered around the idea of “restoring the Petrović dynasty” or returning to 19th-century Montenegro with its traditional values and worldview. This brings up a timely question: How would sovereign Nikola I respond to Mohamed Alabbar's current proposal, which involves a mega-investment on the condition that his company, owned by the controversial businessman from the United Arab Emirates, would take over Ulcinj’s Velika Plaža and its surrounding area for the next 90 years?
Drawing on the extensive accounts of Czech experts on Montenegro from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, which offer striking historical parallels to today’s events and debates, we can infer that the sovereign’s response would likely be clear, direct, and unequivocal.
Many Czech travel writers who visited Montenegro between the Berlin Congress and World War I were particularly fond of Ulcinj. They were drawn to its dramatic history and natural beauty, and the rich cultural blend in the southernmost part of the Montenegrin monarchy. These writers believed that, if developed wisely, the city and its surroundings could become a popular European spa and holiday destination.
However, Czech authors from that era were adamant that the city’s development as a tourist destination should remain under the control of the local population and the Montenegrin state. Vratislav Černý (1871–1933), one of the leading Czech experts on Montenegro at the turn of the century who visited Ulcinj several times, captured the typical Czech viewpoint in his 1911 article A Slavic Seaside Spa on the Adriatic with the following words:
“If some enterprising hand were to renovate the many empty houses in the town, open decent restaurants, and the government supported the organization of social life, Ulcinj would come alive again, and believe me, there would be no finer resort on the entire Adriatic…”
At the same time, he cautioned that despite the region’s great potential, it should not be “left in the hands of foreign entrepreneurs and overwhelmed by outsiders.”
A particularly relevant and timely account of a proposed mega-investment backed by large-scale foreign capital, which threatened to radically change the character of Ulcinj and its surroundings, was provided by writer Josef Holeček (1853–1929) in his book Montenegro at the Turn of the Century (Prague, 1899). This book has yet to be translated into Montenegrin.
During his second visit to Ulcinj in 1897, Holeček noted some modest yet noticeable improvements in the area’s tourist infrastructure compared to his first visit in 1882. Back then, he had to sleep “with Turks and Albanians” in extremely poor hygienic conditions. Less than two decades later, he stayed in a clean, well-maintained inn run by a host named Tanas Cilinder, whom Holeček described as “a peculiar product of Balkan mixing – a Greek born in the southern Albanian town of Elbasan, ethnically now a Serb, and an Austrian citizen.”
Like other Czech writers, Holeček emphasized that Ulcinj – thanks to its prime location on the Adriatic and its excellent climate – was destined to become a natural health resort. However, at that time, the Montenegrin government simply didn’t have the financial means to steer the city’s development in that direction. According to Holeček, while he was staying in Cetinje, an idea emerged that Ulcinj could be transformed into a seaside resort with the help of a joint-stock company. But when he met the people behind the initiative, the Czech author firmly advised them to abandon the plan. The proposal relied on foreign capital and would have mainly benefited foreign investors and visitors, rather than the local population.
In Holeček’s view, the Montenegrins unfortunately lacked the mindset for gradual, strategic, long-term development. Instead, he argued, they were inclined to do things “en gros” – either all at once or not at all, aiming for something grand or nothing at all.
Holeček also recounts a much more extravagant attempt to transform Ulcinj at the end of the 1890s, driven by what he called a foreign "investment of the century." A few years earlier, he writes, Ulcinj had attracted the attention of an international gambling syndicate. They offered sovereign Nikola three million in exchange for a long-term concession to build world-class casinos and all the related amenities. Within a year or two, Ulcinj would have been completely transformed. Small houses would have been torn down and replaced by grand hotels and palaces; the hills behind the town would have been covered with parks and promenades, dotted with marble villas. Wealthy foreigners would have discovered the fertile plains of Ulcinj, buying up land and building lavish summer estates surrounded by lush gardens. The entire region would have come alive. Even spendthrifts and fortune-seekers from across the seas would have flocked to Ulcinj, chasing opportunities to get rich without lifting a finger. Montenegro, in turn, would have gained a new stream of revenue – so much so, Holeček writes, that “even a fool could fill his pockets.”
However, he also highlights Montenegro's challenging economic situation at the time. The country lacked the essential investment capital needed to drive development and was often forced to seek assistance from abroad under unfavorable conditions. “Last year,” Holeček points out, “Vienna and Berlin blocked a loan of one million francs that Nikola had arranged in Milan, arguing that Montenegro fell within the economic sphere of Vienna and Berlin… and that Italy should stay out, or risk an economic conflict with them. If Montenegro had leased Ulcinj on a long-term basis, it wouldn’t have just received one million – it could have gotten three, and not as a loan to repay, but as money it could keep. Imagine what a wise ruler like Nikola I could have done with such a large sum!”
Still, Holeček reports, Nikola firmly rejected the risky investment and the millions that came with it. According to the Czech writer, the main reason was the sovereign’s resolve that his people learn to depend on their work and maintain economic independence, just as they had preserved their political independence. “Sovereign Nikola,” Holeček writes, “wants his country to always remain the land of its people, where a foreigner, if he comes as a friend, will be welcomed as a guest, but where no one other than a Montenegrin will be the master. He wants to protect Montenegro’s heroic spirit from the corrupting influence of cosmopolitan decadence. This rejection, in Holeček’s words, was one of the finest acts of Nikola’s reign.”
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